


Rolling In the Deep

by Feygan



Category: Chronicles of Riddick (2004), Chronicles of Riddick Series, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen, Plotty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2017-12-21 17:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 9,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feygan/pseuds/Feygan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Basilica crashes on a primitive world. Riddick and his crew have to deal with the consequences, as well as the greedy hands of the natives.</p><p>    <em>...they say most of your brain shuts down in cryosleep. All but the primitive side--the animal side...</em><br/>To be caught in the moment, helpless, it was infuriating. But all he could do was ride it out.<br/>Darkness, pulsing and strong. Pressure pushing down on his optic nerves until flares of brilliant color were bursting behind his eyes.<br/>The ship was crashing --<br/><em>...you never forget that sensation of weightless tumbling while metal screams and bends around you...</em><br/>-- and all he felt was weary amusement.<br/>Been there. Done that. He'd always been the one to walk away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

... _they say most of your brain shuts down in cryosleep. All but the primitive side--the animal side_...

To be caught in the moment, helpless, it was infuriating. But all he could do was ride it out.

Darkness, pulsing and strong. Pressure pushing down on his optic nerves until flares of brilliant color were bursting behind his eyes.

The ship was crashing --

... _you never forget that sensation of weightless tumbling while metal screams and bends around you_...

\-- and all he felt was weary amusement.

Been there. Done that. He'd always been the one to walk away.

Solid impact. He felt it ripple through him and out. Dim echo of ship's alarms wailing.

" **Warning. Hull breech. Warning. Left quadrant flooding with salt water. Warning. Hull breech. Warning.** "

Nonsense babble considering the crew was tucked away in their cryo-lockers, unable to respond.

But he heard it. He listened.

And in his mind, the animal laughed.

What a world.


	2. two

The Kaiju were a menace, one that kept growing stronger with every victory. It was to the point that scientists were predicting the death of all native life on Earth.  
  
The world was becoming a Kaiju paradise and it was taking a toll on everybody.  
  
Dumping the Jaeger program so publicly had not been a good idea. It had been the slamming of a door that never should have been fully closed. But the UN was full of hurt feelings and the American representative had reacted like the asshole he was. Typical politician, willing to let the world burn just to get a point across.  
  
There was a struggle happening to save the human race, yet even now some people refused to take the threat seriously.  
  
Safe far inland, living in their armored bunkers and underground palaces, they sneered at the idea of spending money to save all life on Earth. It was better to wait until things reached catastrophic levels before reacting like fools.  
  
Discard the one thing that had worked so far. Then build a wall. Let the Jaegers' ranks dwindle until they were useless. Sell the program.  
  
And why?  
  
All for the sake of a dream dredged up from the depths of the ocean, the Genie's Lamp. A spaceship.  
  
The ship had broken into pieces, not that they'd realized it when the first section was found. It had been large enough they'd assumed it was most of the ship. And they'd found the crew.  
  
Dead of course, their strange floating beds unable to stand the pressure of the crash and impact with the water.  
  
The coffin-beds had cracked and the occupants had died. There was nothing anyone could do for them.  
  
But the technology... it revolutionized everything. It breathed hope into people that were lacking it.  
  
The first bit of wreckage had been discovered a month after Trespasser had torn up a large chunk of the western seaboard. It was found by a salvage company and quickly confiscated by the government.  
  
An alien ship filled with all kinds of technological marvels. Including what was to become Drift technology.  
  
The propaganda story was a lie, or at least a stretch of the truth. Scientists _were_ working on Pons technology, but it wasn't going anywhere. Until they got a look at the strange apparatus joining the minds of the aliens together.  
  
Even damaged and lacking in some components, scientists were able to reverse-engineer the technology. Drifting was successfully achieved.  
  
The Jaegers were born. They did their duty. They saved lives and defended the coasts. The Jaeger pilots were heroes, their sacrifice one to be recognized, but the cost of giant fighting robots was astronomical.  
  
And with the discovery of the Genie's Lamp... the Jaegers died.  
  
Because the section of alien spaceship they'd found was the size of a small city. Massive to the point that there was serious consternation that it hadn't been found before.  
  
Using Jaeger tech, the ship was tugged close enough to shore that a pier could be built and scientists could find their way inside.  
  
Indescribable wonders were found amongst the grim gold panoply. The spaceship must have belonged to a warrior race, because there was a treasure trove of weapons. Things that could do damage on a planetary scale.  
  
Humanity had the means by which to fight back. Hopefully without turning the Pacific Ocean into a crater of glass.  
  
Production of the "Big Honking Space Guns" was commenced, not leaving resources for much else.  
  
The wall would give them safety from the Kaiju Blue the ocean was going to be spread with once they started blasting Kaiju into vapor. They might even be able to cultivate fish once they had a clean area of water. The wall would at least give the public time to reach proper shelter.  
  
The spaceship had given them a bounty of hope and devastating weaponry. They had barely broken into the first levels of the Genie's Lamp, and already it had helped save the Earth.  
  
They dug deeper to see what other wonders they could discover.


	3. three

 A cryo-locker had a bit of life to it. As long as it remained undamaged it could maintain its passenger for a little over six months while separated from main power.  
   
 And when that time gave up, it blew its hatches and released its passenger. To survive or die, that was up to circumstance.  
   
 Six months after the crash, all the seals broke. Everyone that was going to wake up did. The others... They drowned in their sleep, never realizing what had happened.  
   
 A mass of crew assembled. Lords and ladies wandered around in a flutter of confusion. The gravity generators were offline. The floor slanted worryingly. People were shouting to be heard, wanting to know what had happened.  
   
 "Shut up!"  
   
 Instinct had driven them to the throne room. The Riddick was there.  
   
 Lord Marshal of the Necromongers, shirtless and with his beasts prowling around his legs. It was not a comforting sight.  
   
 But he was their Lord Marshal. He spoke, and they obeyed.  
   
 Silence spread. They waited for him to guide them.  
   
   
 It amused Riddick every time he saw those Necros bow their stiff necks and submit. He could kill every single one of them, and it was his choice to refrain. They had given themselves to him, and those that had fought had died.  
   
 Such was the way of these living undead. They walked around, waiting for him to ghost them, loving the taste of death. It disgusted him nearly as much as it amused him, and sometimes he wondered if they realized what they had brought into their midst. What kind of man he wasn't.  
   
 They bowed and worshiped him, turned to him for answers as their precious Lord Marshal.  
   
 He sometimes wondered how hard they would fight back if he decided to kill them.  
   
 "The Basilica has crash landed on an uncharted world." He stroked his hand over the head of Precious, his favorite hell hound. She made a growling chirrup of pleasure, pressing back against his palm. "Most systems are offline, though at least we've got life support."  
   
 He grinned, knowing it looked unpleasant. "Big sections of the ship are flooded. If we can't get things fixed, I hope everyone can swim."  
   
 "I've already issued orders to emergency work crews." Commander Siberius Vaako strode into the throne room. He seemed completely unbothered by the wildly tilted floor and his uniform looked as neatly put together as always.  
   
 Riddick couldn't help a sense of pleasure when he saw the First of Commanders. "I thought you'd done bought it. Your quarters are in the section that's flooded." Riddick looked around. "Where's your Dame?"  
   
 Vaako's lips pulled tight. "Dead. Our quarters _are_ flooded. She drowned before I woke up."  
   
 "Pity." Riddick bit back the comment about witches melting in water. He needed Vaako; now wasn't the time to antagonize the man. Never mind that he squirmed so pretty.  
   
 "There's a lot of work to do," Riddick said, "and not much time to do it. You handle getting things working in here, Vaako. I'll be taking a squad to see what's happening topside."  
   
 "Should you not wait, milord?" A noble in a dragonskin dress asked. Her blond hair was mussed from her hurried escape from her quarters. The lace hem of her dress still dripped water, though her expression was controlled.  
   
 Riddick bared his teeth in a smile. "We ain't got much choice. The way we're slanted, we're half outta the water. And I hear rats scratching to get in.  
   
 "I don't much plan to let a bunch of scavengers dismantle this ship. Not when it's our only means off this rock."  
   
 "We'll get systems back online." Vaako gave a bow of his head. There was a clench to his jaw that suggested he would rather Riddick stay to handle the repairs while he took the scouting squad. But he wouldn't think to question the Lord Marshal in public.  
   
  _Sometimes it's nice to have a zealot_ , Riddick mused. "Get this ship able to fly. Rescue those that need rescuing. I'll handle our rat problem."  
   
 A chorus of voices responded, "Yes Lord Marshal."


	4. four

Grief was a strange thing, strong enough to work delicate tendrils of emotion through Vaako's mind. Dulled by Purification, the grief was still there, twined through his chest until his breath caught in a hitching gasp.  
  
His dame had been a contentious bitch and that's what he'd respected most about her. So for her to have died in her sleep... It was an ignoble death and it bothered him. She'd deserved something better, grander.  
  
He focused his mind on the task at hand. They were to get ship's systems back online, which meant a trip to the auxiliary bridge, as the main bridge was currently flooded with seawater.  
  
If they were lucky, the capsule of the auxiliary bridge would still be intact. Otherwise they'd have to activate the vacuum pumps, which were a bitch to get started.  
  
 _Just like you, my love_ , he thought in fondness. Hard to get started, quick to cool, and so full of schemes and secrets that it was hard to breathe around her. His beautiful, deadly wife.  
  
Vaako grit his teeth and led his squad in through the bowels of the ship. It was safer than using the main passages and coming across flooded compartments they would have to work around. The system of tubes was a tight fit, but they'd all trained in crawling and keeping their heads down. The feeling of oxygen deprivation was all psychological, and they were outfitted with rebreathers if it got to be too much.  
  
His kneecaps were grateful for the reinforced knees of his trousers as he shuffled along through the darkness.  
  
There were panting breaths and the jingle of equipment belts from behind him. His soldiers kept the techs moving and Vaako didn't worry about anyone turning back.  
  
They were Necromongers. Fearless and merciless.  
  
 _Til Underverse Come_.


	5. five

Precious stalked in front of the squad with a wary swagger, her sisters clicking along after her, the smallest bringing up the rear with a subvocal growl. The hell hounds understood they were hunting interlopers. They were as territorial as he was.

The emergency lighting was bright enough that he kept his goggles on. He figured they'd be coming across survivors or scavengers with flashlights. All he needed was a bright beam seared straight into his eyes.

Riddick followed Precious up the tilted corridor. The further they went, the more uphill the climb seemed to get. when he paused to listen, he could hear the sound of the rats working to get in. The machine squeal of metal being cut through was a distinctive sound.

His lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl. The idea that his ship was being disassembled by those scavenger rats gave him a desire to start removing heads.

He prowled through the abandoned halls with their cathedral ceilings and flung furniture. He led the way along the winding corridors of the housing quarters, each hatch seamlessly the same with only a number to differentiate them. He could feel the occupants watching him as he passed. Non-essential personal had been confined to quarters and were waiting for orders through their Screens. Their attention fairly hummed against his nerves and he knew they were watching him through their Screens.

How they could let themselves be pushed aside and relegated to spectators in their own lives he couldn't understand. They were putting all their trust in others to keep them safe.

They were sheep. Useful, but sheep nonetheless.

"Move faster," he growled and picked up the pace. Precious smoothly flowed into a trot, sensing they needed more speed.

The rats tearing away at his ship needed to be punished for their trespass. His blood surged at the thought of some bloodshed. There'd been very little challenge to him in recent months.

He needed a good fight.


	6. six

Once he'd set the crews to getting systems online, Vaako went about riffling through the nav charts. They needed some idea of where they were for when they were capable of blowing off this rock.

He monitored the coms while he worked, organizing his various repair crews. It was probably a task for a lower ranked commander, but he'd assigned them priority tasks and there was no reason to change things now.

It was make work and he needed it. Otherwise he would focus on the death of his dame, of the surprised blankness on her face. He wondered if she'd thought of him while drowning, still sleeping peacefully while she died helplessly in her cryo-locker.

It turned his stomach. Such an inelegant way for her to die. She'd deserved more.

He paused on an unfamiliar nav reading and called up the correlating star chart. He zoomed to have it fill the Screen and hissed a breath between his teeth.

They had somehow deviated from their flight path and entered the Uncharted Territories. They were at the ass end of the universe where only pirates dared to skirt.

Even if they sent out a distress call, the only ones likely to answer were brigands and thieves. It would be better if they repaired the ship themselves--if it were possible. There were very few friends of the Necromongers, and he didn't imagine there would be any in the UT.

They were on their own and he couldn't help wondering where the rest of the fleet was. Here somewhere with them, or well on their way to the Threshold. It was a mystery that bothered him, though there wasn't much he could do until they got the ship to some kind of working order.

One task at a time, he thought.

They would get life support back online, save who they could, repair the ship, then they'd get off this rock and find the fleet. He had to trust that the Lord Marshal would see them through without trying to escape.

Otherwise it was the duty of the First Among Commanders to ensure that the Lord Marshal led the Necromongers to victory, even if he had to personally drag Riddick through the role. Siberius Vaako took his duties seriously.


	7. seven

Leaving two soldiers to guard the hatch, they'd sealed it behind them and headed toward where the scavengers were cutting their way in from the Antechamber. Riddick could hear the furious sound of machinery working and it drew his lip back from his teeth in a snarl that Precious echoed.

He may not have celebrated his role as Lord Marshal, but that didn't mean anyone was free to take what was his. And the Basilica was his ship. His dangerous deadly toy that he didn't want to share.

"They didn't even say please."

"Milord?"

Riddick gave the pale young soldier a flat look and liked the spark of fear in those eyes. Purification dulled emotions, but didn't quite take them all away. Necromongers still had the capacity to fear. He liked playing with that.

"Come on," he said, waving them onward. The rats were only a few compartments away. It was as good a time as any for a violent confrontation.

Soon even the Necromongers could hear the cutters working. He was amused at the way they snapped to attention.

They were all so eager to serve him, even as the lords and ladies schemed to knock him off his throne. It kept him on edge, right where he needed to be.

He could see the sparks where the cutter was grinding through the wall, creating a large archway. Big enough for all kinds of machinery to squeeze through.

Whoever the rats were, they were intent on stripping the Basilica bare. They hadn't even bothered to check for survivors.

"Lundgren," Riddick growled. The red haired man snapped to attention, his helmeted head turning toward the Lord Marshall. "You cut them down when they come through. No mercy."

"Yes, Lord Marshall. No mercy from the Necromongers," Lundgren said. He was a good soldier. Obedient.

"You, you, you, with me." Riddick jerked his thumb and they followed. "We're using the emergency service hatch. We'll surprise them on the other side.

"Yes, Lord Marshall."

He smirked. They were all good soldiers.


	8. eight

"This is impossible." Vaako sat back hard in his desk chair.

He didn't want to believe, but he'd had his results checked twice.

They had crossed the Threshold.

The Lord Marshall should have taken his shuttle into the abyss, but something had gone wrong. The Basilica had jerked out of parking orbit while they were still preparing for the ceremonial feast. It had been navigated straight into the wormhole.

"And the unworthy all died." He huffed a humorless laugh and dug his fingers into his leg.

He drew in a deep breath and stood. He had a job to do.

The Lord Marshall would protect the ship while Vaako would get it running again. He began issuing commands to his aides and they crafted the orders to be sent out to the lower ranks.

His soldiers were counting on him. He would not fail them.

Vaako vowed to survive this Test and prove that he deserved a place with the Most Holy. Though he was unworthy of the honor, he would not turn away from this challenge. He was Faithful.

The Lord Marshall would serve as an anchor point. He would guide them through this test and carry them to the other side. As long as they believed in him and let him lead them, they would survive.

Vaako chose to believe. He would not allow fear to have a place in his heart. He would perform his duty. He was a Necromonger. He was Faithful.

He curled his fingers into fists and refused to admit that his hands were shaking. It must have been excitement.


	9. nine

The emergency service hatch was a tight squeeze. Riddick couldn't imagine anyone using the claustrophobic little tunnel for anything more than a real emergency. It opened up in a closet-sized cabin with a door lock Riddick had to use his universal override on to release.

Necromongers didn't seem overly concerned with comfort and personal safety.

Precious pressed up against his hand and he scratched her cheek ridges as they waited for the others.

If it had been him alone he would have picked off the rats one by one until there were none left. With his squad of Necros at his beck and call, he figured they could make things a bit more exciting.

"We'll keep some alive," he said. "There's no reason we shouldn't find out all we can about this rock we've landed on. I ain't planning on lingering long, but if they kick up too much of a fuss I might let you convert the locals."

He could practically smell the heightened interest. Necros were always hot to go out converting, spreading their religion across the universe. He hadn't let them get their jollies off in a while, but he figured they deserved a bit of incentive.

If the rats wanted to play, he figured they should get what they deserved. A bunch of Necros following them home would teach them that finder's keepers didn't apply to anything he claimed as his own. And this ship was his.

Riddick went out first, Precious and the other hellhounds trailing close behind. He could hear the subvocal growl beneath her panting breaths, the anticipation of violence rising.

She was ready to rip someone up. He could relate.


	10. ten

Scouts were bringing in their reports, plugging their scanners into the command computer. Vaako imagined there was a chomping, whirring sound as the data was collected and collated. The blind spots were being filled in and the picture presented wasn't a soothing one. The damage to the ship was worse than they'd thought.

There was a good chance that they were going to be stuck on this planet. The Basilica would be their only resource, the planet destroyers no use when not in space. Small arms would be their best weapon.

Vaako went over the gathered intel and began amending orders. Rescue of survivors, food and supplies, repair of the ship. Those were the priorities of the moment. He would know more once the Lord Marshal returned.

Thoughts of his dame drifted through Vaako's mind. Her cold and reptilian beauty so at odds with her passionate sexuality. As dangerous as she was enthralling, more than anything she'd desired that he be Lord Marshal--physical limitations had kept her from the role, but she'd been prepared to be the right hand of a Lord Marshal.

There were times when Vaako had wondered why she had chosen him. Though he'd quickly risen through the ranks, at the time she'd first set eyes on him he'd been nothing but a soldier. One among ten thousand. Yet upon him she'd laid her favor, cast those dark eyes on him and wrung promises from his flesh. He'd vowed to become worthy of her.

And now I am alone, he thought.

His dame was dead and there was no changing it. He would have to keep moving forward and complete his duties. As long as he didn't stop his forward momentum, the pain--an ache at the heart of him where his human heart used to live--would fade to bearable levels and she would become a regretful memory of someone he had once loved. A few Purifications would clear the haze from his mind and he would be able to continue on his Path.

Things would work themselves out as they were wont to do. And he would serve the Lord Marshal and spread the message of the Necromongers. Their numbers would swell with new converts.

His dame was dead but he was not alone. He would not forget it again.

Vaako huffed in victory when a message popped up at the corner of his screen. Auxiliary internal sensors had been brought online. They were still blind to anything outside of the Basilica, but at least now he would be able to see what was happening with his people.

He hit the sensor icon and multiple feeds opened on the screens arrayed around the room. There were still some blank spots, but he could see the supply hold, the galley, and the living quarters.

With a few simple commands he was pleased to find Riddick and his squad. But what they were doing ... Vaako clenched his hands so hard against the console that he felt his fingers cracking the casing. He forced himself to let go and pushed his worry away.

Riddick was the Lord Marshal. He would do what was best for his people. No matter how seemingly ill-advised.


	11. eleven

Lundgren and his boys hit the rats from the front while Riddick gleefully came at their backs. The smooth slide of a blade through flesh, sharp enough to shave bone, that last whuff of breath or that startled gurgle as the body and soul parted company ... it was beautiful.

His only regret was they didn't put up much of a fight. There were some startled shouts in their backwoods dialect, but it was plain to see they weren't fighters. Just a bunch of scavengers with toolbelts and no weapons. Pathetic.

When it was done and blood was cooling tacky against the decking, Riddick was pleased to see that Lundgren's boys had saved four for questioning.

"You clean up this mess. You guard the corridor." Riddick pointed and Necros moved, quick to do his bidding. He looked to Lundgren. "You take these guys back to Vaako and send me along some more troops." He grinned. "You keep what you kill. It's a lesson these rats are about to learn."

He stalked close to one of the prisoners, liking the fearful roll of the man's eyes. It was all about respect. "You understand me?"

The man gave him back blank incomprehension. Riddick laughed. Looked like some rats were going to be learning the language the hard way.

"This must be the back of beyond if you don't even know Standard. Don't worry, boy, by the time we're done with you, you won't even remember you ever spoke anything else." He nodded at Lundgren. "Convert 'em if you have to. Just get the local language into the translators."

"As you will, sir."

Riddick smiled. "I do."

There was something about being in a brand new playground that made him feel young and excited. There was so much to do and see and kill.

"Come on," he called Precious and her packmates. They took a few more hurried bites out of the bodies, but followed after him, their claws clicking against the decking.

There were more rats to flush out and exterminate. Maybe some of them would be an actual challenge. He could only hope.


	12. twelve

Having watched events play out across the Screens, Vaako had the interrogators prepped and ready to go when their guests arrived. He'd already sent more troops Riddick's way, having learned to lip read years ago.

It felt good to be on top of the Lord Marshal's needs. It was why he was First Among Commanders.

He examined the record of those last few moments before the Basilica had been sucked into the blue planet's gravity well. They'd been stationed close to the Threshold in preparation of launching the Lord Marshal's shuttle. A ship had moved out of position and struck them with a gravity lance. They'd been betrayed.

Anger churned through Vaako as he thought of someone daring to commit such an act of treason.

Challenges were an accepted part of life and a fast track to higher rank. A fight to first blood for lower ranks or a fight to the death for higher ranks, but this was a betrayal of everything the Necromongers stood for.

To interfere with the Lord Marshal's Test was heresy. All those responsible for such treason would be punished for their crimes as befitted anyone that betrayed the ideals of the Necromongers. Vaako would oversee the executions himself.

He saved his findings to a data crystal and tucked it away for further examination. He'd let the Decryption Department handle pulling up the evidence needed. Surely the whole crew wasn't guilty, but if they were they would not be getting away with a plea of ignorance. The Decryptors would break them down and the pieces would be scattered to other ships or sent into the Burn Chambers to have their ashes added back into the dust of the universe. Garbage turned back into something useful, a new sun or a new planet with a population settled for Conversion. It was the kind of beauty Vaako appreciated.

He called on some lesser commanders to maintain the bridge, then made his way to the throne room antechamber, which was currently being set up for a rough prisoner interrogation. The prisoners themselves were huddled together in a corner, the air around them polluted with fear.

Vaako looked to Drommick, who was taking the role of the dead Interrogator. "Make sure you run a base check on them. I don't think they're very hardy and we don't have enough of them to spare to accidental termination."

Drommick grunted acknowledgment. He was a man of few words, though he had a skill with getting answers out of even the most stubborn of detainees. His natural talents had been carefully cultivated by the Interrogator, honed to a powerful force.

Vaako glanced at the prisoners. They did not seem capable of much; there was no fear they would attempt to escape.

Vaako caught the eye of one man -- short, thick framed glasses, terrified expression -- and felt his lip curl in disgust. Pre-Converts were already weak, but these particular specimens were pathetic.

"I leave them to you," Vaako said. He had other concerns and Drommick was a professional.

He went back to perusing the incoming reports. Large portions of the ship were out of reach. Emergency crews were pumping out the water where they could and disaster workers were evaluating the infrastructure of the ship.

Things did not look good. The damage was worrisome, as the Basilica was the only ship they had available. He wondered if the locals had any ships; he didn't have much hope of it.

Vaako frowned down at his handheld Screen. Their situation was shaping up to be worse than he'd thought.

He flicked his fingers across the Screen, prioritizing repairs and organizing the work crews.

It may have seemed an untenable situation, but he would do everything in his power to bring his people through it. They were Necromongers and they did not surrender.


	13. thirteen

The further Riddick went, the more displeased he became. He found himself wanting to echo the hellhounds' growling breaths.

The scavengers had done more damage than he'd expected. Panels were stripped and wires dangled. Gold alloy had been peeled from the walls and furnishings. Cabins had been robbed of their treasures, from cushions to every piece of technology.

Not only had his territory been invaded, the violators had stolen from him. And they had dared to think that what was his was theirs for the taking.

"Move faster," he ordered.

He could hear more of the rats up ahead, industriously stripping the ship of anything they deemed valuable. It was only a matter of time before they realized they had lost contact with their fellows. It might make the fighting better, but Riddick preferred to take them unawares.

For all he knew, there was a whole planet they would have to fight their way through. He didn't have the Necros to spare on playing.

One of Precious' sisters growled warningly and Riddick shifted aside in time to avoid the bullet that would have gone through the left side of his head. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a fierce grin and he turned and flung a knife.

There was a startled yelp and the male soldier ducked behind the gutted remains of a comconsole. Riddick smelled the rich copper of blood, but it had only been a surface wound, just enough to sting and burn.

Precious and her sisters separated and approached the console from both sides. There was a chainsaw growl and a terrified scream. The man leapt over the console and ran straight toward where Riddick had ghosted back into the shadows of a column.

It felt good to punch a blade through the yielding flesh of the man's gut, a finger sliver of room where body armor didn't protect.

There was a shocked indrawn breath, then the vapor of aspirated blood. Riddick stepped back and let the body fall.

"One down ..."

He quickly checked the body, examining the foreign make of the gear. It wouldn't do to find out the primitives had surprises.

A chemical propulsion gun that shot metal bullets. A communicator strapped to a utility belt -- a simple four channel radio with a wireless microphone clip and earwig. A tan colored uniform under the armored vest that sported the tags of a foreign military. And in the man's back pocket a wallet with paper currency, plastic cards -- one with the man's picture and possibly his address in the local language -- and a handful of photographs in plastic sleeves.

Riddick pulled out the picture holder and tossed the rest of the wallet to a nearby Necro. "Get this body to forensics. I want to know everything about the world outside."

"Yes sir."

Riddick grunted, attention caught by the pictures he held. He wasn't interested in the smiling people or the stark infirmary scene of a bald and withered child bravely smiling from a hospice cot. No, he focused on the blue sky, green earth, and the giant robots.

"Huh."


	14. fourteen

Over the course of his years amongst the Necromongers Vaako had been introduced to many human societies. There had never been a clear explanation for how humans had spread out so far across the universe, but there were always some similarities between each group.

Galactic Standard was the most common language, and even planets that hadn't experienced offworld visitors in thousands of years had some form of Standard in their history. So it was an oddity to receive the Interrogator's report: the prisoners had never heard even a variation of Standard.

"Are you certain the Mind Probe was calibrated correctly? Perhaps the machinery was thrown out of true during the crash."

Drommick was too well trained to show disdain, but it was a subtle undercurrent. "The machine is calibrated correctly. I was able to pull complete histories from the prisoners' and none of them has any familiarity with Standard. They have been completely isolated. Not even the usual planet pirate assaults."

"Hm." Vaako flicked through the report again. It was always odd to see entire lives distilled into formally worded summaries, the emotion stripped away to leave the reader to guess at the driving force behind each decision.

The prisoners had not only never been introduced to Standard, but they had no experience whatsoever with anything beyond the gravity of their little planet. They had existed completely cut off from the rest of the universe.

Vaako swiped his finger across his Screen, skimming the report for anything useful. Other researchers were examining this same report and would be developing plans, but he wanted some idea of what they would be facing. For all he knew, the entire planet could turn hostile on them.

From what he could tell, they were largely pre-spaceflight--disappointing, as there went any plans to steal some ships--and it seemed that they were at war with the ...

"What are kaiju?" he asked.

Drommick growled. "I'm having the neural lace checked to see if we have mistranslated their data. It kept insisting that kaiju are three hundred foot tall monsters that rose up from the depths of the ocean to attack their cities."

Vaako blinked. "I've never heard of creatures that size. Are you certain the subject doesn't suffer from some form of psychosis?"

"There are no signs, but I still had all four prisoners thoroughly scanned. If there is a psychosis, it is something they all share."

"Hm." Vaako read through the last page of the Mind Probe record. "They have been scavenging our ship for weapons to fight their enemies?"

"It seems so. I have ordered that deeper scans be taken. If you look on page two, you can see that these kaiju have been attacking for years, which seems unlikely."

Vaako didn't bother to check, choosing instead to pierce Drommick with his impatient gaze. "And why is it unlikely?"

"Because all of the prisoners insist that they've been using our technology for years, since several months after the first kaiju attack." Drommick shook his head. "Which is impossible.

"Yet they have memories of watching Screen recordings of the chamber of the Quasi-Dead being towed up onto the shore and years worth of experiments being performed on the neural pods. They've stolen our technology and used it to create massive war machines they call--" Drommick consulted his Screen, his mouth shaping the foreign word twice before he spoke it aloud. "--Jaegers."

"Jaegers," Vaako said, tasting the word. "Tell me more."


	15. fifteen

Riddick had his soldiers set up a temporary fallback position in the entrance chamber. More troops were arriving all the time, their armored bodies ant-like from his perch on the promenade.

He sat with his legs dangling over the balcony, his arms leaned against the rail. Precious and her sisters prowled around him, dissatisfied by the lack of activity. Riddick rested his chin against his arm and waited.

Years of solitude on U.V.6 had taught him patience. He'd learned to quiet his mind and muffle the rush of his anger. The scarcity of prey and his own hunger had forced him to learn how to hunt when all he'd known before was how to kill.

He'd learned more about himself in that time alone than he'd ever wanted to know. He'd been forced to confront his demons and move on. He'd been changed by the experience.

Now he was using his new patience to play nicely with his allies, his sycophants. The lone hunter--the murderer--part of him that had spent years in the slam wanted him to run ahead, to keep all of the kills for himself. But he'd evolved alone in the snow and the nice, when the sight of any human face would have come across as a miracle.

For the first time in his life he'd craved human contact. How could he throw it away now, even if they were slow and pathetic? He was leaving them to watch his back while he scouted ahead. It wasn't like he was counting on them to actually do anything.

Riddick grabbed the top rail and pulled himself to his feet. There were enough bodies milling around below that it was time to move on.

Anticipation burned in his blood. He had a need for violence and it wanted to be satisfied. He could reassert the claim on his territory at the same time.

He dropped to the main floor and gestured toward the largest mass of soldiers, among them their commander. "Time to go. Half of you with me and the rest of you hold this position. Send follow up squads after us along with supplies. Understand?"

"Yes, Lord Marshal."

Riddick made for the hatch. The blast doors had been sealed, but it was the matter of a moment to have it opened wide enough to slip through. He could hear the clatter of boots behind him as well as the click of hellhound claws, but he didn't bother to look back.

He broke away from the group, ran ahead on quiet feet. He didn't need their loudness to spook his prey.

He figured the Interrogator would want more subjects and it might be worth it to Convert as many of the locals as they could easily claim. It wasn't like they were going to be getting new recruits from anywhere else. Which didn't mean he had to be gentle with the scavengers.

It would do them well to learn to fear their Lord Marshal.

Riddick's lips skinned back from his teeth. He'd missed this, the anticipation and the thrill of the hunt.

Hearing the sound up ahead, he toggled his com. "We got bodies in the Chamber of Primordial Night. Flashbangs and stun grenades through the west entrance in five. I'll come in through the north and drive them toward you." He didn't bother with warnings of what he would do if they shot him.

" Stet, Lord Marshal ."

"Til Underverse come," he said. They would like hearing him say it, the deluded bastards.

" Til Underverse come ."

Riddick worked his way through unoccupied rooms and corridors, his senses on alert. He didn't know what the scavengers were thinking--he would have flooded the ship with bodies--but it worked to his advantage. Perhaps they were so certain the Basilica was empty that they hadn't thought they needed to secure the areas where they were working.

Hubris , he thought.  Arrogant human hubris; it's killed more men than me .

If they were stupid enough not to watch their backs, then he would happily drive his blade into their spines. It was what he lived for.


	16. sixteen

Hermann was worried, though he refused to show it. He'd grown even snappier than usual over the last half hour, but that was the only sign of his incipient panic.

If that buffoon is fooling around again, I will box his ears . He tried not to think of that moment two weeks previous when he'd come across Newton splayed on the floor, limbs twitching and seizing as spit bubbles frothed from between his lips.

Hermann had yelled himself hoarse over the  idiocy of playing with untested alien technology in non-laboratory conditions.  After he'd made sure Newton hadn't managed to completely fry his brain. His lab partner had looked at him like  Hermann was the idiot before he'd smiled and said, "This is science Herm. Sometimes we gotta take the big risks."

It had taken two medtechs to keep Hermann from strangling Newton.

Hermann didn't want to think of a world that didn't have his lab partner in it. They argued and got on each other's nerves, but Hermann had never found anyone he was so comfortable working with. Not until he'd met Newton -- who had missed his status check by twenty-five minutes -- had he known what real friendship was.

Though Newton had been accompanied by several scientists and the soldiers the UN had foisted on them, Hermann couldn't help thinking that something was wrong.

Newton had promised to call in. He'd finally understood how serious Hermann was about hearing from him. And while the phrasing had involved his usual exuberant attitude, Hermann had looked into his eyes and known he was serious. Newton had even set the alarm on his watch to remind himself.

"I am telling you, Captain, something is wrong." Hermann fought to keep his tone level. All yelling would get him was rolled eyes and the opinion that he was a hysterical scientist.

Captain Lepwicki's mouth was pulled in a tight line. "I understand that you're concerned, Dr. Gottlieb. But as you know, the alien nature of the architecture makes finding and maintaining a radio signal hard. Dr. Geiszler and his assistants are in the Main Temple. The walls are very thick and are covered in alien metal. Until reinforcements arrive, I cannot leave my post to check. And most likely, by the time we begin heading to the Main Temple, Dr. Geiszler's team will already be on their way back. Do you understand where I'm coming from, doctor? I cannot leave my post."

Hermann clenched his hands on the head of his cane. "I understand that you are in a tight position, Captain, but they are overdue for their check in. Dr. Geiszler is a man that keeps his word and he  promised me that he would radio at precisely 18:00 hours. I am very concerned."

"I understand," she said. "I have asked that Lieutenant Mathison and his men to come early so that we can send someone to check on Dr. Geiszler and his assistants. But until they arrive, my hands are tied. I'm sorry, doctor, but you must be patient."

Yelling in her face would not get him very far. He forced himself to turn away and return to his collection of equipment.

Hermann would have happily turned down the UNs offer if he hadn't been pressured to fulfill the last of of his contracts. Marshall Pentecost had loaned them out on the promise that they would be returned in one month's time. They had one week left before they returned to what was left of the Jaeger Program.

The Genie's Lamp was a fascinating find and about the only thing that could have lured Newton and him out of their Shatterdome lab. Already they had learned much that would help in the battle against the kaiju, though Hermann would have preferred that the Jaeger Program not be so ingloriously abandoned.

There were plenty of amazing discoveries to be found in the Genie's Lamb, things that could turn the tides of war. But no matter the breakthroughs they made, the results from all of their backwards engineering would be months if not years away. Abandoning methods that worked for the possibility of success was incredibly shortsighted. His describing the UNs recklessness in less than diplomatic terms was mostly likely the reason why they had been so willing to let him go. There had been no push to renew his contract, not that he cared.

He and Newton were going to stop the kaiju and save the human race. He could almost see it in the shape of the math. The answer was  right there .

Hermann glanced at his watch with a frown. Where was Newton?

"You better be all right, you idiot," he muttered. He focused on sorting tools back into their proper order. It was busywork as he pretended he wasn't worried.

He and Newton had worked together for a long time--eight and a half years--and had known each other through correspondence for even longer. Newton could be a reckless fool, letting his excitement get ahead of his common sense, but he knew proper lab protocols. Playing with alien technology was always risky, not least because the lexicon for the alien writing was rudimentary at best.

They'd all learned the signs for On, Off, and Danger. The linguists were still trying to figure out pronunciation of the 52-character alphabet the aliens used. The world's best encryption specialists had been given the task of decoding the programming for the alien computer systems. Until the computers could be accessed, the linguists had no spoken version of the alien language to reference, and the Holy Grail of advanced technology remained out of humanity's reach.

Hermann closed the last case and leaned his forehead against the plastic. His mind insisted on presenting the image of Newton ignoring a Danger label and frying his brain.

"Hey doc, you okay?"

Hermann lifted his head to see Corporal John Flanders standing close by, watching him. The corporal had followed them from the PPDC at the order of the Marshall along with Corporal Andrea Reinholdt, who regularly accompanied Newton.

"I'm concerned that Dr. Geiszler missed his check in. He's become quite good about calling when he's supposed to."

Flanders checked his watch. "You're right. His check in should have been forty minutes ago, and they were working for three hours before that. It's been nearly four hours since any contact with Dr. Geiszler's team. I don't like it."

That was why Hermann had a certain fondness for Flanders. They both had a healthy dose of worry for the trouble Newton could get himself into. Marshall Pentecost had put the fear in both corporals: he wanted his scientists back at the end of the month in as good, if not better, condition as when they left.

It was ridiculous that Hermann felt warmed by the Marshall's concern, as it was entirely self-serving, but he took it to mean that he and Newton were essential to the program. The rest of the K-Science division may be clearing out in two months, but he and Newton were patriots--not to particular countries, but to the human race. Never mind that the UN had taken to pandering to its biggest monetary contributors; everyone sticking it out with the Jaeger Program was in it to save lives, even if it meant giving up the idea of regular pay.

The Genie's Lamp was important, but when it came down to it, Hermann knew that the Jaeger Program would save the most lives. It made him angry that the UN had cut funding from a system that worked to chase after fairy tales and dreams. As though there were no room for two projects. There wasn't even a consideration of working together to find the answer--the UN simply abandoned something proven to work and placed all their blind trust in an untested wall and the dream of some super weapon being found in the wreckage of an alien craft.

If the aliens were so brilliant, then where are they? Dead .

Hermann sat back on his heels. He had no more make work. All he could do now was worry about Newton. He hoped his friend was all right.

He was focused inward and missed the flicker of movement behind him. They'd grown careless and started taking the alien ship for granted. They'd claimed it in the name of humanity and no aliens had stepped forward to tell them they were wrong. Until now.

Events were a blur to Hermann's confused mind. He'd been in scrapes during his school years, but after the onset of his MS people had begun taking near ludicrous care around him. He had never been in a real life and death fight before. He wasn't proud to admit that he froze.

Hermann was an observer to events as they unfolded around him. He watched as UN personnel and contract scientists were taken down by savage figures in gunmetal gray armor. The blows exchanged were brutal and the attackers didn't seem to know what pain was.

Then there was a chainsaw growl from close behind him and Hermann half-turned in time to catch a glimpse of a large slavering beast. It was like a cross between a hyena and a wolverine. At least, that was what his panicked brain thought before the animal slammed into his back, its snarl loud in his ears.

It was lucky that he hadn't been standing or he could have been seriously injured. As it was he was knocked sprawling on the floor, hundreds of pounds holding him down, dangerous claws poking through his jacket to pierce his flesh.

There was the deep rumble of a voice speaking an incomprehensible language. Painfully, Hermann turned his head enough to see a muscular bald-headed man standing over him. The man wore black goggles that hid his eyes from view.

"What is ..." Hermann nearly swallowed his tongue when the man grinned at him, displaying white teeth and a surprisingly charming expression.

The man rumbled something else, sounding amused. Then he drew back his booted foot and kicked Hermann in the head.

Everything went black.


	17. seventeen

Precious was grumbling at the lack of kills, and part of Riddick agreed with her dissatisfaction. Being civilized had never sat well with him, the rules of society chaffing at his nerves.

"It's all right Precious," he murmured, digging his fingers into the ruff at the back of her neck. She made a chirruping purr sound and arched under his caresses, demanding more. He chuckled. "There's plenty more rats where these ones came from, don't you worry. You'll have plenty to play with tonight."

He watched as the captured men and women were bundled together in a rough pyramid of bodies. There were some weak cries, but no attempts to escape. He could almost feel sorry for them. The next time he saw them they'd all be Purified and well on their way to being happy Necros.

Riddick gently shoved Precious away. "Come on, let's go find some more friends to play with."

He jerked his hand at his squads of Necros.

They needed to gather up the scavengers already aboard, then they had to seal the breach in the ship's hull.

The Basilica was the biggest asset that they had. It was up to them to hold onto it.

Gathering up the Necro troops shouldn't have felt so natural. He'd spent most of his life being alone. But they were nearly pack, all of their eyes looking to him for orders and leadership, trusting that he was their Lord Marshall and his orders were theirs to follow.

He didn't understand the impulses that turned them into near slaves with their devotions, but he knew how comforting clear orders could be. Just because he'd never been much of a follower didn't mean he couldn't see the allure of a clear cut chain of command. There was something soothing about always knowing where you were supposed to be.

 _And I am at the top_ , he thought with no little satisfaction.

He hadn't wanted to be the leader of a group of intergalactic zealots with a Convert or Kill approach to life, but he couldn't deny that it felt good. While he didn't have to be loyal to them, they were willing to die at his command.

"Let's go," he said. And they followed him, boots clumping against the decking, obedient to his every whim.

* * *

_Fear. Pain. Confusion. The world was a blur of sensation, his sight blocked by the helmet that had been shoved over his head before he was enclosed in the frightening coffin-box._

_He flinched when needles were jammed into the tender flesh of his neck. Poison pumped into his veins, burning through his brain._

_He forgot his name. Forgot his family, his friends, the life and the person he used to be. He existed in the moment, fire raging through him--burning him out of himself--while voice thundered in his ears._

"You keep what you kill." "Convert or die." "The weak are meat the strong eat."

_He didn't know who he was anymore, but he had a purpose and a place. He had a reason for being: to serve the Lord Marshall and spread the way of the Necromongers._

"...til Underverse come..."


	18. eighteen

Forty-eight hours after waking to find the Basilica had crashed, Vaako could look around and feel a sense of pride in what his people had accomplished. Systems were coming back online, repair crews were hard at work, the flooded sections were being drained, and Riddick had cleared out the so-called rats, killing and Converting as needed. In all, the situation was much less dire than it had first appeared.

"Sir, we are being bombarded with primitive communication frequency waves. The natives are attempting to contact us," a technician reported.

"I see," Vaako said. "Open a line to the Lord Marshal."

"Yes sir."

There was the gentle murmur of the technician speaking into her microphone. Then Riddick's voice filled the auxiliary bridge. The man had a powerful presence even over the com. " _What is it?_ "

"The natives are trying to communicate with us," Vaako said. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood at easy rest. "What are your orders, sir?"

" _Talk to them_ ," Riddick said. " _Arrange a meet-and-greet as necessary. Don't mention that we've Converted their people. We'll leave that as a surprise for later. Be diplomatic_."

If they'd been in person, Vaako would have made a comment about Riddick urging diplomacy. His lip twitched in amusement. "I'll handle things, sir. Will you be coming to the bridge soon?"

" _Nah. I'm down on the troop deck. You handle the natives. I trust you, Vaako_." There was a hint of irony in Riddick's voice, but Vaako felt warmed anyway.

"I won't disappoint, Lord Marshal," Vaako said.

" _I'm leaving it to you then_ ," Riddick said. " _Let me know my part_."

The connection cut out and Vaako turned to the coms officer. "Make contact with the natives," he ordered.

"Yes, First Commander."

Vaako had worked hard to earn Riddick's trust after Lord Marshal Zhylaw had been released to the Underverse. It gave him a sense of accomplishment to think that Riddick trusted him. He would not fail in his duty now. This was his test.

"We have made contact, First Commander," the coms officer said. "The translation algorithm seems to be working. They are asking us who we are."

"Tell them that we are the Necromongers and the Basilica belongs to us," Vaako said. "Tell them that they have trespassed where they have not been invited. Tell them that the Lord Marshal is not pleased."

"Yes, First Commander."

Vaako sent commands through his Screen to other sections of the ship. There was the murmur of the choppy language of the natives in the background, but he focused on what he was doing. There were things he needed to get done and the coms officer would let him know when he was needed.

From what he could tell repairs were coming along better than his worst estimates. The Basilica might not be as beautiful as before, but it wouldn't leak like a sieve either. Hopefully it would once again be spaceworthy.

He did not look forward to being planet bound for the foreseeable future.

"Sir, the local command official is on the line," the coms officer said. "His name is Marshal Pentecost."

Vaako glanced at her with a raised brow. "Marshal?"

"Yes, First Commander. Perhaps they aren't much different from us?" she asked.

"I hope they are," Vaako said. "If they were as vigilant as us, I might be concerned by them." He let a lizardlike smile cross his lips and gestured for her to make the connection.

There was the nonsense babble of the local language through the speaker followed by the crisp, mechanical translation. It was an irritating effect, but there was no other choice but to deal with it.

" _I am Marshal Stacker Pentecost of the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. Who am I speaking with_?"

Vaako might have been impressed by the authority in the man's voice if he'd been someone else. As it was, he looked forward to seeing Pentecost and his followers Converted or dead.

"I am First Commander Vaako, speaking for the Lord Marshal of the Necromonger Empire. You have trespassed aboard our ship and your underlings have been taken as recompense. Send your speakers to plead your case." Not that it would do any good. The Necromonger Empire had never been stopped by begging before and wouldn't now. It was only for forms sake that the locals be offered a choice--in reality, the Armada would overwhelm the planet anyway.

Vaako wondered whether Pentecost would be his newest Necromonger brother. Would he soon be competing with the man for pride of place? Or would he be stepping over Pentecost's bones on the way to conquering the rest of the planet for Conversion?

" _Do not harm our people_ ," Pentecost said.

"They are no longer yours to worry about," Vaako replied. "Send your speakers and we will discuss terms and reparations for the damage you have done to our ship."

There was a long moment of silence. Then, " _Where and when_?"

Vaako allowed himself a grin. He could already scent the victory.


End file.
